Satiate
by ArsinoetheXXVII
Summary: A collection of sexy one-shot/two shots- varying T & M ratings. Now: The final shot of Boy Unmasked. Vows- check. Ring- check. Girl… Better double check. While the crowd awaits he needs to steal a few minutes of her time- just to reassure her with soft, loving words. How did this turn into such a dirty situation?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

AN: This is a just something fun to get the Ichiruki outta my system- speculation about how the relationship might evolve- into something sexual!

FYI- I started this forever ago and have been adding here and there so it hasn't really taken away much from my other writing time- which I'm kinda flailing about with if truth be told… Boo. But anyway…

Please indulge in the randomness! Note now that Ichigo might be OOC- a little more aggressive and somewhat of a sex god…

Rating: M for admittedly brief smuttiness

Summary: She was a battle-hardened warrior- a fighter in her prime, yet she simply could not keep up with him. A college boy's stamina is nothing to scoff at.

Word Count: 2,994

* * *

><p><span>Satiate<span>

Boy Unmasked

Part 1

888

Hazy yellow sunlight. A warm breeze just hinting at the coming season of cold with its scent. Clouds casting shadows, lazy cotton drifting across baby blue skies. It was autumn. Still warm and inviting, the outside world beckoning to be indulged in.

But it was much too hot. The light burned- scorched already rosy flesh and heated the salty moisture kissing what was normally snow-pale.

Even the air flowing through the crack in the patio door stuck to her skin, not pleasant and teasing but greedy and suffocating.

No she could not enjoy the beautiful fall day- could not venture beyond these pale gray walls to the outside to revel.

He would not let her.

"Please," Her pleas were exhaled- heavy pants spilling from her dry mouth, "At- at least- close- the- blinds!"

She cried out as he pierced her even more fervently for her audacity.

"Shh," He murmured, soothed, purred, "It's better this way."

When had his voice become so buttery- so much like heavy velvet- like rich melt-y darkness? Gone were the days when his voice used to crack slightly with anxiety or uncertainty. Women could no longer provoke him into losing his cool silky tone.

He was not a boy to be teased any longer.

He rarely even blushed anymore.

Yet her skin was flushed, her cheeks afire, her whole body drowning in his flames as much as raked by the vicious rays of sun.

And she had no control.

Her eyes were tearing.

A trained, battle-hardened shinigami of one hundred some years, and she was reduced to begging- to imploring him to let her rest.

It did no good.

He bounced her viciously in his lap, his arms hooked under her bare thighs, spreading her wide for all the world to see.

"But- but someone- might look-," She tried to reason in a weak practically breathless whimper.

"Let them." Was his simple, sultry reply as he buried his nose in her dark hair at the nape of her sweaty neck. Her back arched at the tickling sensation and she again could only make a breathy protest. As though to emphasize his point he let one hand wander down to finger her pink folds.

A strangled moan tore from her helplessly as her eyes closed.

The darkness was blissful, bordering on the abyss of unconscious delight.

But his fingers were sliding up and down along her clit and the bright natural light was hitting her just so that her whole pussy tingled.

It was too much. The pleasure over the last few hours was just too much.

_**He **_was too much. His relentless thrusts, his unflinching hold, his spiritual pressure coursing through her veins with each brush of her womb with the head of his cock.

"Let everyone see how beautiful you are." He whispered hotly against her skin and she felt the heat spike.

Just when she thought he had wrung all sense of gratification from her, she felt the jolting gush of orgasm soak him, felt her walls grasping and quivering.

Poised precariously on the edge of the bed, he was still thrusting, still hefting her up and down vigorously, reaching her depths and growing impossibly big inside her. She could only groan when he released his hold on her legs only to wrap his arms tight around her middle. His breath was a desert wind buffeting against her. And a deep rumbling moan was bubbling from his throat. Then he was bursting inside her, splashing thick cream into the deepest part of her, squeezing so tight her ribs ached in protest.

"Ichigo!" She gasped, her arms pinched to her sides.

His slick chest at her back was rising and falling swiftly, each inhale and exhale audible as the last of his essence coated her insides.

"Aa." He muttered finally, forehead resting against her shoulder blade as he steadied his breath slowly. His muscled arms eased around her and she sagged against him, his presence keeping her upright.

Sleep tugged at her, her eyelids dropping heavily over her eyes, shutting out the noon daylight.

Her breathing relaxed almost instantly, became deep and rhythmic as her body went limp.

She felt the vibration of his chuckle and then she was uprooted and tossed behind him onto the bed.

There was pain and she wondered if it were as much a mental reaction to being parted from him as it was physical. She felt tender everywhere.

"Shit." She heard him curse. "That time? You made me late for my Chem class." There was a smirk in his voice and her brows furrowed.

But the bed was solid and enveloping beneath her, the protest she normally would have spat a fuzzy jumble of words in her blank mind.

She could barely register the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor, the squeak of the bathroom door, or the pitter-patter of the water hitting the tile and glass of the shower.

But when she felt the bed shift and the sensation of his nose nuzzling her neck she stiffened despite the soreness of her body. When his lips brushed her ear her eyes shot open.

"You don't want to join me, do you?"

"No!" She cried, her eyes wide in near-horror.

Again his breath brushed her skin as he mocked her with a throaty laugh, "Just thought I'd ask."

He pushed himself up from his bent position over her and sauntered back the way he'd come, humming some tune she was almost positive had raunchy lyrics (AN:Steel Panther, my friends- it's irreverent vulgarity- not for the sensitive, but a good- _**fun **_time- seriously check out a show).

With a sigh she let her limbs turn to jelly again, melting back into the comfort of his bed as she closed her eyes once more.

Still she let her senses finger the atmosphere. It never did hurt to be on alert with such a predator around.

_**When**_ they had turned the corner in their relationship was still somewhat fuzzy to her. She honestly couldn't remember their first sexual encounter.

_After the war with the Quincies, but before he decided to go to college after all. _She mused in her half aware state.

The exact moment he had become a man, was no mystery to her however. It was that instant the point of her blade parted the skin of his chest. That was the moment, Ichigo Kurosaki had reached adulthood.

It wasn't just what she told herself to justify the affair- it was the truth though she nor he had recognized it at the time.

The real shocker was not the adult relationship that took place when they were alone, but the fact that Rukia submitted to it- submitted in every way, shape, and form in actuality.

She'd always been the dominant one- he differed to her in almost everything (with the exception of her classic rescue). But in most instances she had always had the upper hand, been the calm rational minded one between them. He had always respected her authority regardless of how he liked to push her buttons and openly insult her. In truth, Rukia was his superior, his captain in a sense and he relied upon her opinions.

It was not so when they were alone now.

At whatever point their interaction became intimate it was then that he had stepped into the role of _dominant_. Grabbed it, really, snatched it in his hands like a leash.

There was an invisible collar around her neck, and when Ichigo yanked she fell to her knees.

It was all sex. They had made no confessions, had no frank talks about their connection or relationship. Though the depth of their bond was unquestionable, they couldn't claim to be anything, but friends.

Best friends perhaps.

Best friends who also had sex...

But there were no titles for them and there were no promises.

In her mind, it would be much too complicated. If they were to approach things from an emotional stand point to define their affiliation it would be ultimately worse than the mortal terms of a "long distance relationship."

Kyoraku Sou-Taichou had found it imperative that there was a lieutenant-class shinigami that reported on the World of the Living on a monthly to every other month basis. Never mind that the Substitute could have submitted such reports via Soul Pager.

What with Ichigo attending college it honestly only made sense to task someone from the Gotei Thirteen with this assignment.

It had been the perfect set-up. The perfect catalyst for this evolution between them.

Still, regardless of the thought that had gone into nudging the two toward more, both were reluctant to let labels weigh their actions.

Correction: She was too adamant about not disrupting her friend's life to take any sort of romance into consideration.

And while she was slightly embarrassed about what a lamb she became when he reached for her, she tried not to think about it much.

It was better not to overanalyze anything at this point.

It was simple: When they succumbed to passion, he boasted the upper hand. Behind closed doors she withered under his desirous gaze, wobbled backwards on trembling legs until he got her where he wanted her: the sofa, the bed, the shower, the kitchen, the laundry room, up against _any_ wall…

There were no boundaries in his own space.

Even in public, however, she had to be careful not to let their gazes lock on one another- to him if she met his eyes it was a provocative invitation- whether she was intending to send such a message or not. Sometimes it was simply her proximity that set him off and he would make up a sly excuse to drag her away.

He had never been a good liar, but for some reason he had a silver tongue when he wanted her to himself.

There were still normal days, though. Thank kami for normal days or she'd get no rest!

More often than not though, days that started out normal ended in dirty romps all over his apartment.

So much energy! Even after fighting hollows, studying for exams, and attending classes he managed to work her over in the most perverted sense of the phrase.

Blindly she reached for the crumpled sheet and only half covered herself before exhaustion prevented her from further movement.

It seemed as though she only closed her eyes for a moment when she felt something trail along the outer edge of her ear.

She only stirred slightly, letting out a soft sound as she clung to the darkness behind her eyes.

"Hey," His voice, rumbling sweetly, caused her to shiver, "You awake?"

There was an ache in her throat, a childish plaintive whine itching to break forth as she tensed at his words- sleep slipping from her grasp. She tempered herself, held very still hoping he would simply leave off.

"Rukia." He prompted, leaning further over her, warm breath breezing against her face and neck.

Damn. Still… She made another sound, a soft grunt, twitching slightly.

"Hey." He nudged at her head with his own, the bed dipping as he pulled his legs onto it, holding himself over her fully now.

She lay on her side, curled up tightly; she could feel him caging her in- legs and arms on either side of her. Stubbornly she kept her eyes shut and drew in on herself even tighter.

When she heard that teasing tone of his she felt all of her muscles clench, "Ru-ki-aaaa."

Her fists were starting to shake now, clutched to her chest. She sorely wanted to knock him on his ass with a quick uppercut, but she knew that would just spark a fight she had no energy to win. Besides, to this beastly college boy a little scuffle was as good as foreplay.

Again she wanted to voice a protest without words, but she bit into her lip instead.

His chuckle feathered up her spine and he let his nose trace her ear again, "You're awake aren't you?"

Ignoring him was obviously not a firm enough denial of his attentions.

After a few more moments in which his hand began to tickle up her bare arm she resigned herself to making her opposition apparent.

"No." She muttered between her teeth.

But _his_ teeth were at her earlobe, and between nibbles he purred, "Oh? Then I'll just have to wake you." His fingers were gliding over the sheet at her hip, fingertips burning through the thin covering.

"I don't want to wake." She hissed, shifting away from his eager hands.

At this he simply scoffed and shook his head, freeing crystalline droplets from his locks to sprinkle her skin.

She winced, eyes clenching tighter before she cried, "Ichigo!"

Again he merely chuckled at her protesting, but he drew back to sit on his calves, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence, "Okay, okay… I just wanted a 'see-ya-later' before I left."

She opened one eye looking up at him with a suspicious gaze.

He spread his hands, impatience in his tone as his look wavered between a scowl and a smile, "Look I have to go! I told you I'm already late."

She rolled her eyes turning her face from him as she growled, "Whose fault is that?"

He smirked, but knew the response that leapt to his mind would tip her off so he just shrugged and ran his hands through the damp hair at the back of his head, "Lost track of time…"

It was her turn to scoff and she closed her eye with a sigh, "Better get going then… Before your professor scolds you _**again**_."

His lips twitched again, but he agreed gruffly, "Aa." He dropped his hands to either side of her again however and spoke earnestly next to her ear, "Will you stay?"

She remained quiet for a time, but she really didn't want to leave the comfort of his bed. She slept the best when her head was buried in his pillow- the scent of him like a drug keeping her coma induced. The perfume of him spoke to her: _safe_, _warm_… _loved_.

Finally after exhaling in surrender she hummed acquiescence, "Mmm."

"Then tell me to have a good day." He grumbled at her, a petulant scowl forming.

Rukia returned this scowl over her shoulder. She knew what he wanted. After a momentary hesitation she turned her head and met his lips with a quick peck before turning her head back into the fluffy comfort.

Despite her expectations, the young man allowed the brief contact and moved away.

She felt a shot of coldness in her heart- a little stab that spoke of a minute sense of rejection. Her lips formed a helpless pout. She couldn't help but be surprised by his lack of effort. _What's wrong with that pervert? _She wondered. With that thought she sat up and whipped around to accuse, "Oi- what's your problem?!"

"Eh?" He gave her a rather quizzical look over his as-of-yet bare shoulder, arms poised to pull a t-shirt over his head.

The boyish- almost guileless look on his face gave her pause and she flushed and sputtered, "I mean- don't you- aren't you- agh! Never mind!" With that she threw herself back down dramatically, her back to him.

But her sulk lasted all of a moment before she was screeching in surprise as she was tossed over a muscular shoulder and promptly flashed to the living room.

She gave another startled cry as she was shoved onto the carpet and covered by a lean, toned body.

A roguish smirk could be seen beneath the shadow of tangerine bangs, "Of course I want to and I _**will**_."

The helpless shinigami shuddered instantly recalling she was quite naked. She closed her eyes to escape the heated gaze of her partner, her face already aflame as he settled himself between her conveniently parted thighs.

There was no shirt in sight on his ripped chest and as it was she could feel him reaching between them one-handed to deal expertly with the belt he'd fastened on not so long ago. She felt her breathing hitch- coming faster and kept her eyes closed. His one hand clasping her wrists together over her head slowly released the restraining grip. The hand trailed languidly down one arm, caressing the skin, down, down, over one very eager nipple toward her belly.

His knuckles dug slightly against her as he used both hands now to pull his belt from his waist. Another cry was loosed when she felt him snatch at her hands that had settled on his biceps, only to fix them into place over her head yet again. This time the belt he drew tight and buckled around her wrists held her captive and she made a soft whimper as she opened her eyes to look at him from beneath her lashes.

He chuckled and it reverberated like a purr causing gooseflesh to appear on her skin, "Don't give me that look. You didn't really think we'd part ways with such a half-assed good-bye did you?"

His lips curled further into a rakish mien as she only managed a moan due to his one hand having strayed downward again to twist her nipple playfully. Her little form squirmed beneath him and she began to pant- attempting to stifle a cry when he began to pull a little roughly at her sensitive peak.

"You should know better, Rukia." Ichigo admonished in that sexy tone that was steeped in sin.

The woman's eyes grew dark, meeting the challenge in his eyes with a stubborn glare. This insatiable brat dared to scold her?

She would not have it! She would not surrender this time. There was no way in hell-

Her scream echoed in each corner of the apartment as she writhed in unanticipated bliss.

_Is it really so bad to be the sub? _ Her mind uttered dreamily as her body began to ease from its convulsions.

As he sat up and cocked that devil-wild grin at her she decided it was open for debate.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: The ending is kinda 'meh'- I know. There w/b a part 2 to this- a little something from Ichigo's POV about their relationship- probably a lil more fluffy from his view honestly- and of course some more sexy times. And this will prob be home to any other one-shots of a sexual nature unless they have a broader theme- so look for those!

Thanks!


	2. Boy Unmasked Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

AN: Well this is a surprise… That this dropped so quickly (though I did start this a bit ago too)- take some credit people- your reviews and favorites/follows encouraged this- I was honestly startled by the response! So thank you kindly! I hope this addition is enjoyable.

Again this is Ichigo's POV- so its styled a little differently- it's him analyzing their friends w/ benefits status- while admitting to his real view of things. Basically he's cute (fluffy) _**and**_ horny while she's practical (stubborn) yet willing. This also reveals their first sexcapade.

Rating: M- For smut and saucy/bad language.

Summary: At some point the dam broke. And Ichigo's hormones burst to the surface in all their masculine glory. What was that first encounter like? Maybe less than magical… A deviant is born.

Word Count: 3,045

* * *

><p><span>Satiate<span>

Boy Unmasked

Part 2

888

Ichigo Kurosaki, Second Year grad student at Karakura University, lazily meandered down the deserted sidewalk on the western side of campus.

A wide yawn nearly cracked his jaw and he continued to squint and blink at the sun that splashed through the branches of the trees he treaded under. The afternoon light was changing, highlighting his hair in tones of flame.

As he combed through his strands with one hand a crooked grin appeared. Only perhaps twenty minutes prior, Rukia's delicate hands (escaped from leather) had been fisted into his locks. Her hands had been wound so tight he thought for certain he'd be missing a patch or two.

In an attempt to savor her after their fervent round of lovemaking, Ichigo had tried to meld their lips in a languid kiss, but Rukia had flicked him in the forehead with her fingers.

For a near exhausted girl, she could sure put some force behind her slim digits.

The young man rubbed the sore spot on his head grumbling, "So frickin' unladylike."

After her cruel rebuff he had still graciously swept her up into his arms to deposit her in his bed, though he had muttered the entire way: 'midget' this and 'midget' that. And yet he had placed a loving kiss to _**her**_ forehead before his departure.

She had smiled a little and even offered, 'Later, Strawberry.'

These days were not so uncommon. The sex was never stale of course, but the actual carnal acts that took place when she took up her duty in town were unavoidable.

_Making up for lost time…_ He reasoned.

He could never have imagined being so… demanding, however.

But once his libido kicked in…

He supposed all those years of obliviousness, followed by the years of resisting the female form in all its glory had truly caught up to him. In fact all that time spent suppressing urges most young men indulged in had essentially snow-balled.

It seemed only natural that all his frustration eventually pushed him over the edge and his instincts led him to the one female he was most vulnerable with.

The comfort level he felt with her was the truest intimacy he had known- up until the point that his hormones took over that is. But it was only the natural progression of things in his mind.

It had never been brotherly affection that he'd felt for her, yet he allowed her closeness with little hesitation throughout the years.

He wasn't immune to a pretty face, but after the first moment of awe, having laid eyes on the female shinigami, he had not allowed Rukia's beauty to become a factor in their relationship. He was not a man to be swayed by looks- a gradual romance- a building of trust and then love was the only way for him.

When the floodgates had finally opened he knew he had wanted her all along- perhaps not sexually at first- but not so innocently either. He'd always felt a strong desire to keep her by his side- and despite the times he had let her go- he had known that there was no severing that tie to her that would inevitably draw them together time and again.

It was indulgent, but he loved that she blushed for him; when he said naughty things, when he groped her when no one was looking, and eyed her with shameless intent.

But she grew crimson, never more so than when he kissed her.

Often she tried to avoid heavy make-outs- even quick sweet kisses she shied from- claiming them to be too intimate. It was ironic that of the two of them she was the one that became flustered and embarrassed. Yet to him it was all too endearing.

After all, what other woman could be so ungodly cute?

It wasn't just that she didn't saunter around like a bombshell that appealed to him, it was that she let him instill his own brand of confidence into her.

Strange, but there were times when even 'I'll-Kick-Your-Ass-For-Calling-Me-Midget-Kuchiki' was insecure. He loved to watch her bite at her lower lip, trying to contain a shy smile, when he complimented her.

Loved, this.

Loved, that.

He scoffed, but allowed a small smile.

It _**was**_ love.

He'd been through too much to live in denial.

Despite _**her**_ efforts to keep some emotional distance between them- he was completely aware of the strength of her regard. Perhaps he was a little bit more enamored than she was- but he had no doubts that she held a fierce kind of love for him too.

Rukia wasn't the type to permit a man to take her to bed without deep-seeded emotions attached- in this respect they _**were**_ equal. Because…

Yes, he was just a little more head-over-heels, and that was okay.

He'd take no tender words from her until she realized, as he did, that they were stuck with one another.

Let her play the relationship-martyr for a bit longer…

Meanwhile, he was man enough to admit that he could recall every dirty detail- every encounter down to the very first one.

_First Time Flashback_

They'd been on a stakeout.

A soul had been causing mischief at the scene of its death- a warehouse on the docks. It was an innocent sort of haunting, but the seasoned soul reapers knew that the silly pranks would only last for so long before the spirit might turn vengeful.

The man had worked in that shipyard for nearly all of his life, unloading and loading- watching the cargo ships set off for exotic destinations. In a way it had been his home, his co-workers his family. His death had been an accident, and his mates had mourned the tragedy. While his soul might have no ill-will, and simply wished to remain, death had a pull that more often than not became a fevered resentment.

Hours had passed. Rukia had even allowed him to nod off in consideration for his busier than busy schedule (essays, applications, and part-time job). But while she had patrolled the large warehouse while he napped, his spiritual pressure had gone unchecked.

Ichigo had woken with a start to the feeling of a malicious gathering of hollows and the flaring of his partner's icy reiatsu.

He had skidded around a corner to a halt, his frustrated guilt falling away at the sight of Kuchiki Rukia battling.

She'd looked like Athena herself (if Athena were a winter-kissed goddess in robes of black).

There was blood from a cut along her jaw and while he would never wish her injury, it made her all the more radiant. The hollows were no lightweights and sweat sprinkled the woman's brow, but she whirled between them like a dancer, with such precision that her blade cut them down with each graceful spin. Ice vapor was expelled from her lungs, creating an ethereal fog allowing her to flit about like a phantom. Her midnight hair, dusted by frost, crashed against her face. And each glimpse he got of her lapis-lazuli eyes was electric.

He'd never been more astounded… or turned on.

It was strange- that tingling of attraction that started in his hands- desperate to touch her- and spread throughout his body only to center in his groin.

Oh yes, he was continuously impressed by Rukia's skill, but this moment was on a whole other level.

One had to factor in that he was now: older, wiser, and hell, he was _**male**_.

Plus, was it him- or had she filled out a bit since they'd parted dramatically a couple years ago?

_What's not sexy about a hot girl hacking away at monsters?_

When she dispatched the last of the enemy she stood panting, but soon enough those intense shades of navy and lavender were zeroed in on him and they were shooting daggers his way.

"Oi! How the hell old are you now, Ichigo, that you don't know how to keep a lid on that ridiculous reiatsu of yours?" She had snapped at him, hip cocked with one hand planted there, her sword still glowing white in the other.

His face had been flushed- call it embarrassment- call it the heat of lust- he looked like a true strawberry.

Dry-mouthed he had approached her tentatively only to grip her by the shoulders. He still wasn't sure how she had missed his tenting hakama, but she had allowed him to lead her to a crate and sit her down without fuss.

She huffed at him, casting another glare at him before she gave him her profile and began to use kido to repair the slice in her face. He sat next to her, hands shaking, and erection straining, willing himself not to look over at her.

"Can't believe I let you catnap only for you to leak reiatsu everywhere and call Hollows! They weren't babies you know!" She berated him, hand glowing with demon magic.

The Fates were conspiring. And with the awakening of his manhood pressed against the fabric he was losing to his inner lecher.

He came utterly undone, when she shifted the cloth of her top down to expose her shoulder, a bruise marring the snowy skin.

She sucked a breath in through her teeth and his resolve was shattered.

Glad he had taken Sode-no-Shirayuki from her hands to lean it against a stack of crates- slightly out of reach- he took a deep breath and took the plunge.

Her face appeared between his hands. Those high cheekbones of hers burst pink like cotton candy.

He'd never been a fan of sweets- but if this was sugar he'd _**devour**_ it.

She seemed unable to push a sound past her parted lips enthralled by the simmering look in his eyes.

It nearly made him laugh to see the nervous, yet rebellious questions behind her gaze though:

'_What the hell do you think you're doing, idiot?' _and _'Who said you can touch me like this or even look at me that way, you asshole?'_

"Don't you trust me, Shinigami?" He asked softly, tenderly.

Rukia's eyes had widened, no doubt taken aback by the charming brown eyes and the cocky smile that curled her partner's lips.

"You're a little tease, you know that?" His voice had dripped like honey and his hot breath seemed to warm the air around her.

The opportunity for her to answer was forewent.

Was is the high of battle that left her vulnerable to him?

They'd really gotten beyond the point of sidestepping the obvious- that they were male and female- that there was potent chemistry at work.

_Give in._

He leaned forward then to offer her a soft kiss that lingered too long to be considered friendly. In that touch of lips he'd stolen her breath- and perhaps a piece of her rationale.

She made no protest and the lack spurred him on. He dove in-open-mouthed spreading her lips to work in time with his own.

Due to her half stupefied state, she couldn't quite keep up, but he didn't care.

Synapses afire, suppressed need now abloom, the shinigami-daiko had only one purpose in mind and that was to _**ravish**_ Rukia Kuchiki.

Before he knew it he'd stripped her of the top half of her uniform and his fingers were ripping at the bindings concealing her breasts- listening as she whimpered into his mouth. Torn open, the white linen strips slid away from her skin and he palmed her small mountains urgently. He thumbed her nipples and she broke away from his searing kisses to gasp.

Twenty, a virgin still and the Shinigami/Quincy/Hollow hybrid was turning a reputable soldier into putty in his inexperienced hands. But Ichigo was nothing if not a quick study.

Being that a part of him was a Hollow- mindless to an extent, it only made sense that his instincts regarding sex were rather keen- natural.

Her arousal came rather quickly, her body shuddering as his hands slid down her waist with teasing slowness. The feeling of her torso and the gentle curve of her waist had prompted the image of satin in his mind. This thought inevitably evolved into the longing for bed sheets- to see the contrast of her skin against the dark blue fabric in _**his**_ bed.

She moaned as he grasped her hips and she angled herself back so that her head rested on the crate behind her.

It was surprising how pliable she had been, but he had not stopped to question her sudden mutability.

As he worked the hakama down her hips and over her gorgeous stems he could only grin at the way she closed her eyes and made what might have been a whine of objection to his pace.

His hands glided over her ankles, up her calves and with agonizing languidness to her thighs, watching as little by little the long legs parted for him.

When her eyes popped open to see him crouched before her she had gone rosy and she sucked on her lips earnestly.

She was bared before hungry eyes and his gaze slid from her lovely Shell of Venus to her sensual mouth. Beyond the slight reservation that was apparent in her actions and face, he could tell she was beyond objections. And as his thumbs traced down that V where her thighs met her pelvis, she was arching her back.

He smiled, bedroom-eyes ablaze. Bent he had leaned forward to kiss her lips once more in a heated _smack_ before dropping his head lower to nibble at the tips of her breasts and lap at them until they glistened with his saliva.

Again she whined, her spine bowed and he was on the warpath once more.

His tongue slapped against her folds, slathering, licking up the piquant liquid-desire dribbling from her core. She squeaked when he clamped his hands on the underside of her thighs tugging her ass closer to the edge of the crate. He gave little thought to how uncomfortable her position against the wooden boxes might be now as he feasted between her legs.

She tasted like cinnamon custard, like a spice-laced dessert and he buried his face against her juicy center, nuzzling his nose in it.

He exhaled gustily and watched her wiggle.

"Do you even know how wet you are?" He had growled seductively, keeping his mouth against her petals so that the vibration shot further sensation throughout her.

The warehouse echoed back her cries. Good thing they were in spirit form; the patrolling night guards unsuspecting of the debauchery taking place.

"P-p-pervert." She mewled this accusation at him with unsteady breath.

To this the devious young man only chuckled. It was pretty amusing to him that he had caught guys staring at her ass before and thought the same thing of them.

"Pipe down, Princess." He barked at her with no real bite.

She'd looked close to slapping him upside the head then, but he gave her no opportunity to vent her frustration.

His teeth nipped at her clit and her hips jolted, her head tossing back and forth, her hands clutching now around the edge of her impromptu seat. Tongue curled he dipped it into her sweet crevice, catching her almost effortlessly when she slipped and placing her back into a convenient position. After a time of tasting the tight heat he pulled back to stare at her face.

How wanton. Only on the rarest of occasions- when his thoughts had drifted without rein had he ever pictured her looking so painfully…

What's the word…?

_Fuckable._

Smirking, he traced her slit with his middle finger, watching as she shivered. When this finger sank inside her, his cock stiffened further and he closed his eyes.

Her body was rolling with every stroke, dripping mound grinding into his palm. In answer he slid another finger inside her.

At some point as he relentlessly drove his long digits into her he thought she might be crying, dewdrops clinging to her obsidian curtain of lashes.

He seemed to know just how to touch her- just how to hit the right places inside her.

An instinctual sex god in the making, perhaps.

Before she came he pressed his tongue to her clitoris once more. Ecstasy washed over them both as she released silently, mouth wide in a perfect "o".

He adored the sensation of her cunt squeezing his fingers and the earthquake effect that made his whole mouth shudder with her.

It hadn't been about getting himself off then- though somehow he had. The fundoshi he wore was sticky with his eruption.

Truly he had wanted nothing more than to feel her- to let his hands roam over his warrior-goddess without inhibition.

It had been a perfect, if not unexpected end to a night on duty.

Ironic that they never did see that soul they'd been trying to catch…

That night had been the start of his addiction.

_Flashback End_

"Fuck." Ichigo stopped in his tracks, books clenched tight in one hand incidentally obscuring his crotch.

He snorted. _Lucky I'm late I guess; no one is around. _ Shifting his weight from one leg to another in a dance someone might recognize if they looked close, the student inwardly weighed his options.

It was either:

A: Squirm about in his seat in class with a boner the size of the Eiffel Tower

B: Head back to his small apartment off campus to the lithe little minx who(maybe not quite excitedly) awaited his return

It was a tougher decision than it might have been had he not just left her in a near comatose state not half an hour ago.

"Fuck." He cursed again, scratching at the back of his head with his free hand. Scowl in place he was indeed trying to think unselfishly.

_She did look tired. And once its dark we do have to spend some time patrolling, damnit… Hours before that kind of night though… Ah shit, she's gonna kick me eventually anyway!_

With a sigh he glanced in the direction of the looming hall in the distance. With a shrug he swung around in the opposite direction and began walking. The smile that tugged at his lips was beyond a shadow of a doubt of the wicked variety.

Time to give the woman he loved another wake-up call.

_The End…?_

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: So that's that for now… I think I might have it in me for a conclusive "happy ending" I've been toying with though… Jeez- so maybe this is a Three-shot…?

Other Ichiruki scenarios will make it into my ever bi-polar brain though the rating may very between T and M- so I do hope you'll join me again when those appear!

Thank you again! Take care!


	3. A Lesson in Sportsmanlike Conduct

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

AN: First off thanks for the support of this little collection! Makes me happy to share this nonsense w/ fellow Ichiruki-ers!

This is a silly one shot. I'm all about Ichigo embracing his hormones! And this is yet another thing I started some time ago and just never rolled out til now.

Do you ever wonder how comfortable the Ichiruki friendship might become? Ever think they could be that couple (as friends) that's okay with taking comfort in one another? There's a little of that thrown in here- liberties taken with the idea that doing certain things wouldn't be out of the norm for them.

*Italicized quotes are Ichigo's Hollow speaking

Rating: T- for suggestive content and language

Summary: He thought he had escaped that phase in puberty where he couldn't control himself… Looks like it just manifested a little on the late side.

Word Count: 2,033

* * *

><p><span>Satiate<span>

A Lesson in Sportsmanlike Conduct

One-Shot

888

When I came to, Rukia was standing over me- her hands on her hips and a very deadly look narrowing her eyes.

_Fuckmylife!_

That look had spelled my doom on several occasions.

I swallowed hard- admittedly horrorstruck.

What in the hell possessed me to do something so utterly stupid- not to mention well… _**perverted**_- was beyond my reasoning at that moment.

Someone who knew Rukia might think me suicidal for the stunt I'd just pulled; as it was I was questioning my sanity.

While I was at it I questioned _**him**_.

_Hey you asshole! You didn't-_

I heard that low chuckle- it practically reverberated in my brain. _"Nah- King. I'm pretty jacked in the head- but not __**that**__ foolish. 'Sides- if I want somethin' you won't find me pussy-footin' around. I'd do a lot more damage than you did. Don't have to go about it on the sly… Which by the way… What the __**fuck**__ was __**that**__? Ain't you supposed to be stealthy?"_

Mentally I flipped _**him**_ the bird, outwardly smirking.

Incidentally this only worsened my situation and I was drawn out of my rampant thoughts- and likely unhealthy dialogue- with my inner demon.

Rukia's sneakered foot was tapping against the earth in a slow rhythm that reminded me I was on the ground courtesy of said appendage.

"Something funny, Ichigo?"

A hand to the aching spot on my torso between my ribs I hesitantly lifted my gaze back up to meet hers.

I propped myself up warily, "N-no- I just- Look- I'm not sure- wh-wh-what-," I was suddenly starting to sound like Hanatarou.

With a slight grimace I tried again, the heat in my face and my own jumble of nonsensical musings making it difficult to hold her gaze.

"Yeah- well- so- it wasn't- wasn't what you think- I-," I continued to blather on- still lacking a good excuse.

Finally she took an ounce of pity on me (so I thought) and took a deep- what I hoped was a calming- breath, and spoke evenly, "Ichigo- I understand that you are a growing adolescent..."

I nearly snorted at this. I didn't think nineteen was exactly adolescent. But of course I was not gonna further risk my life and argue about this point. I like to think I've matured somewhat.

And who the hell was she to be looking down her nose at me? She had that superior tilt to her chin and her hands in fists. I hate that pose. Made me feel like she didn't acknowledge the fact that I was no longer a fifteen year old.

Still considering what I'd just done I had no right to lecture about maturity.

As it was she was starting to look murderous again. I imagine she could guess at the thoughts behind my eyes- wouldn't surprise me at this point if she could outright read my mind.

"Ichigo." Her tone made me shiver, but not in a totally bad way.

_What the hell is your damage? It's not exciting when she's on the edge of whipping out her zanpaktou and freezing your ass_!

I realized I had dropped my eyes to the grass again and it was torture not to drag my eyes up her bare legs with a leer. Oh wait-

"Ichigo!" Her fist came down on my head and painful fireworks exploded behind my eyes.

I clutched the throbbing beginnings of a knot on my head wincing, "What?! Jeez! Fuck! What was that for?!"

Between squinted eyes I could make out the very crimson color to her face as she threatened, "Stop this nonsense Ichigo or- or- I'll tell Orihime!"

Blinking away the tears, I looked up "What?"

She whipped her head away from me, arms folded below her chest (which I _**didn't**_ stare at lewdly) and I noticed she was blushing, "Aren't you two… an _**item**_ as you mortals say?"

I wanted to point out that no one had used the term "item" in like twenty years, but I figured this was not the time for semantics.

With a frown I let my hands fall into my lap, shaking my head, "Where the hell did you get that idea? We're just friends- like we've always been."

Her lip pouted out in that cute way that portrayed her confusion, "But- you picked her for your team…"

With a sigh I wiped at the dirt on my cargo shorts, "So that you could be on the team Chad was on. It wouldn't have been fair if all the… big people were on one team." This didn't make sense of course. But Karin always chose Chad for her team and he was better at defending than I was (not that I wouldn't have tried to protect Rukia, but I can kinda zone out and get competitive). I tried not to smirk and fear I might have failed as her eyes narrowed.

She looked at me straight then, scrutinizing closely with those gorgeous eyes of hers, "She… kissed your cheek before she left."

Ah, that…

That had actually been a bit of a ruse… Orihime had used it as an excuse to whisper in my ear- a little encouragement was all. Once upon a time it might have been a gesture to make clear her feelings- but she had accepted my own feelings some time ago. We were admittedly closer than before- but strictly as friends.

I scratched at my temple a moment before giving a shrug, "Just a good-bye. She's like a quarter European- it's customary or some shit." All true, by the way.

"Oh." She conceded. The breeze tousled her chin length hair, exposing the creamy jawline and classic cheekbones. Overhead the tree rustled and the sunlight winked through its leaves.

Across the field, a net full of soccer balls slung over her shoulder Karin raised her hand in parting, "See ya later Ichi-nii! Rukia! We're off to the pizza joint!"

"Aa!" I called back with a salute.

Rukia in turn enthusiastically waved, her back turned to me, a wide smile spread on her face, "We'll be home soon Karin-chan! Good game!"

I was so glad for the expanse of the field between my sister and Rukia and I. If anyone noted how I was ogling the shinigami I would have been teased mercilessly. As it is my sisters are always questioning my relationship with Rukia- Yuzu ever so innocently- and Karin without remorse.

Swallowing hard, I turned my head away from Rukia's swaying form- the rhythm of her petite, yet curvy body as she waved to the others heading away from the soccer field.

Soon she had turned on her heel, a steely glint in her eyes as she put her hands to her hips once more.

I shuddered yet again, outlined by the sun she was just a shadow- a sexy, domineering shadow.

"So are you going to explain to me why you touched me so provocatively?" She said in a low tone that caressed along my nerves. There was a bit of threat in her words and I knew it, yet felt myself stir in a completely impure way.

_Oh hell, I'm a masochist._

I coughed, scowling at the ground as I realized Karin had probably taken all of the water bottles with her.

As gruffly as I could, while forestalling a stutter and a blush I replied, "It's not- like that… I mean- guys do it to teammates all the time."

Her chin lifted as did one brow, "_**I**_ was not your teammate this time."

"_Damn! I'd think faster if I were you, King."_ The Hollow's snort of derision echoed annoyingly in the recesses of my mind.

_Shut the hell up!_

"It's- just a sports thing, Rukia! It's like saying 'good game'!" I blurted out, hoping I didn't sound as flustered as I felt.

Laughter. There was howling laughter in my head now. _"A sports thing?! A slap maybe, but you squeezed that ass good, King!"_

I had never wanted to retreat into my inner world and strangle my Hollow more than at that moment.

But for some reason- I _**do**_ have the devil's luck, and before I knew it Rukia's suspicious glare disappeared.

Before I could register my utter victory, she'd shrugged, 'Okay' and plopped down between my legs, leaning back against my chest with pure nonchalance.

She idly picked grass from her tennis shoes as she mused in a light tone, "It might have been nice to go with them to get pizza, but I really want nabe. Can we get some nabe, Ichigo?"

The slight tang of her sweat was bombarding my nose and it mingled with the fragrance of her mango scented shampoo. Her shorts had risen higher on her legs drawn close to her chest and my eyes were trailing over every exposed bit of peachy-pale skin.

My palms were sweating now and I wiped them rhythmically on the fabric of my shorts. It was meant to be a calming motion, but I could feel even more sweat beading on my face and arms.

Her head tipped forward I could see the back of her neck and the slight ridge of spine before it disappeared beneath her thin white t-shirt. My eyes wandered as I leaned back slightly on my hands.

Yep, her shirt was see-through.

My eyes zeroed in on the light-colored bra… Lavender maybe? Pastel Pink?

Just like her shorts, her shirt had risen up as well due to her angle and I could see the small of her back and just a peak-

"…go? Ichigo!" Her voice seemed to come from far off and then invade my ears suddenly. My head jerked up and I met her eyes peering over her shoulder at me.

"Aa." I answered hoarsely. I probably looked like a deer in the headlights.

But she just frowned at me, cocking her head, "Nabe… Do you want nabe?"

I nodded dumbly, "Y-yeah… sounds good."

She gave me a smile then and turned back around, "Kay… Let's just cool down here for a little longer then."

"Aa." Was the only response I could manage. A cool-down was definitely in order… A cold shower would be even better…

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, trying not to get a nose-full of her tantalizing essence as I did and rolled my shoulders back.

"Oi… Ichigo…" She said after a minute of silence.

"Mmm?" I grunted, finally feeling like I might actually be able to rein it in.

She shifted, wiggling against me.

"Could you move your cellphone though? It's poking me in the back."

My eyes shot open.

I'm so fucked.

* * *

><p>888<p>

And After the Next Game…

Uryu Ishida's disapproving frown- the one he reserved especially for Ichigo Kurosaki- was perhaps even more disapproving than usual as he fixed his sights on his frenemy.

Recognizing the look the red-head rolled his eyes and rose from his crouched position over the bag of field equipment.

"What is it?" He scowled, folding his arms over his chest defensively, preparing for an onslaught of cleverly worded criticism. When Chad's shadow fell over the young Ishida, Ichigo's scowl became a frown and he lifted a brow.

Chad kept his gaze averted to the side, the dark locks hiding his expression.

Uryu however politely cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth while adjusting his glasses with his opposite hand. The polished lenses gleamed in the sunlight, obscuring the shrewd blue eyes momentarily as the bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes further at his classmate opposite him.

"Kurosaki… Would you care to explain why Ms. Kuchiki thinks that after a game it is appropriate- in fact expected it seems- to- _ehem_- _**fondle**_ the opposing team's backsides?"

Brown eyes grew wide as Ichigo looked from one man to the other behind him. He could now see the crimson blush coloring the tanned skin along Chad's jaw, indicating his whole face was flushed with similar color.

"Aww, hell!"

A forehead slap resounded. It even reached the group of whispering girls across the field. Huddled around a seated Rukia who was looking up at them in bewilderment (steadily growing into red-faced anger and embarrassment) they gently informed her of the difference between friendly touches and sexual harassment.

"You're so dead, Strawberry."

* * *

><p><span>AN:<span> That was fun! At least it made me smile…

Thanks for joining me and Happy Holidays for all that indulge!


	4. The Lemon Tree's Thorns Part 1

AN: Ello and thank you all for the various forms of encouragement for this collection!

The following is a perhaps an odd attempt at a story revolving around love triangles and other geometric shapes that has turned more angsty than fun, I'm afraid. This first part might leave you wondering about everyone's roles in this and the past that connects them, but the second half of this little story should clear some of it up! *Note that this does drag other characters in for longer appearances than previous shots.

Oh and just to allay any fears- Orihime's role in this is just to act as an intermediary- she has a love of her own and it is NOT Ichigo.

Also the odd-couple-like friendship in this was on a whim.

Rating: T for language and a hint of fondling (the follow-up chapter w/b rated M)

Summary: In a Victorian/Modern (I'd call it steampunk but it's missing a bit of that sci-fi/industrial revolution element) setting the hero falls for someone already spoken for and determines to use any means to snatch her away. Ichigo pines for Rukia; Rukia, is engaged to Ichigo's cousin Kaien, who is of late intrigued by another. Of course the Kuchiki heiress' faithful butler seems to cast her favorable glances as well and so too seems to throw a wrench into the lovelorn mishmash. And in the wings is a "witch" with a penchant for helping those in need.

Word Count: 4,240

* * *

><p><span>Satiate<span>

Among the Lemon Tree's Thorns

Part One

888

Prologue

In darkness had he approached her and it was not enough now. How shamefully his love grew in the depths of passion and deceit. He couldn't have known how his small crush might manifest into sinful desire after only one kiss in a candle-less room.

He couldn't even seek atonement- instead he continued down his path of greedy betrayal- seeking to possess her- both body and soul. Never had he thought he would be so callous as to want someone all to himself- and in the process steal that individual from his own flesh and blood.

Somehow he knew though that he was on the side of both right and wrong. In his pursuit- in his desperate attempt to acquire Rukia Kuchiki's heart he was just another righteous devil.

888

A tangle of wildflowers and weeds pushed through the black ironwork fence and spilled onto the sidewalk as though trying to escape their beds. The gate was laced in holly, interweaving coils of iron rising just above the young gentlemen's heads; it creaked eerily on its hinges when pushed. The air was thick with the scent of the greenery, herbs and flowers mingling with the smell of slow decay and the scent of rain. Bees hummed a lazy symphony, hovering over the flowers that leaned along every pathway, craving the sun that winked between the oaks.

While the overflowing front yard/garden seemed very western in its unorganized chaos, the house was traditional- old and seemed abandoned.

The young orange-haired man did not walk straight up to the front doors, but took a meandering path of stones around the right side of the residence.

With silent disdain, his companion followed, eyeing every shadow for some creeping danger.

Soon enough the young man paused, sighing with relief as he stepped from the shade and into the sun calling, "Oi, I thought you'd left for the day. Glad I caught ya."

His friend rounded the corner and paused also to get a good eyeful of the woman his comrade put so much misguided faith in.

She was simply another beauty blooming in the patch of sunny colored mums, daisies, and red poppies she kneeled amongst. With peach pale skin and long strawberry blonde hair, a mingling of heavy waves and braids, she looked to be foreign. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of box-framed sunglasses, red lenses incased in thin black wire. Striped stockings of pale lavender and purple reached to mid-thigh. Her trousers were cut-off into indecently short shorts, her top a simple button-up of white cotton with sleeves rolled up to her shoulders over which black suspenders were secured.

She turned, her pink lips curved into a welcoming smile. She sprinkled dirt about, a mass of rotted weeds clasped in her gloved hands as she greeted, "Thought that was you, milord!" With that, she turned on her stocking-ed heel and wandered around another corner.

The young man wasted no time following her, his black wingtips clicking on the gray rock of varying sizes imbedded in the dirt to make up the walkway.

Connected to the main house there looked to be a small English-style cottage, complete with thatched roof; it, like her and the garden beyond the gloomy front lawn, seemed aglow. Again the bright haired young man's friend seemed to hesitate as he eyed the open shop door with trepidation.

"Oi!" The ginger's voice rang out from the shadowy confines of the shop, "You comin' or what?"

The dark-haired man's eyes narrowed and he stepped toward the threshold.

The shop smelled of incense, of spice, and herb. The minty scent of mugwort made his nose tingle. He didn't much care for it.

Behind her sunglasses, the woman's eyes were grey. She was curvy and tall, just barely ducking the ferns that dangled from the ceiling on either side of the shop's wooden counter.

The whole room looked like a strange combination of an old apothecary, a flower shop, and a wild forest. Wood shelves housed glass bottles, some opaque, some clear, some colored. Dried herbs hung from the wooden beams overhead, seemingly at home with the vines that slithered in and out of the thatch. In the center of the room was a raised pond of rock, bubbling with natural spring water. There were patches of grass springing from the dirt floor.

At the counter the woman set aside her glasses and watched the orange-haired noble with a patient smile.

His companion followed her line of vision and watched as his friend leaned down and tapped at a large clear jar that seemed to contain a variety of… eyeballs?

"What the hell is this for?" He muttered.

"_**That**_," The woman scolded lightly, "Is not for you, milord! May I suggest you focus on what you've come for? Your friend seems anxious to escape."

The dark-haired man fought a frown as she smiled at him. Why did he feel as though she were mocking him?

Yet again he wondered why he had agreed to accompany his "friend" on this folly of an errand. _If not for my younger sister and this ridiculous boy's ties to her ne'er-do-well fiancé I would not tolerate the fool's presence._

'_Please Nii-sama, please try to get along with Kaien-dono's family! I believe you actually might have gone to school with one of his cousins…'_

The handsome gentleman sighed surreptitiously then, curbing the urge to rub at his suddenly aching forehead.

Across the room the woman rapped on the counter suddenly, "Come, young master, it is all prepared!"

Deep brown eyes darted toward the counter in surprise. As he stood straight from his bent position his features morphed into a smirk.

He snorted, "You knew I'd come?"

She answered with a smile, a clear vial between her thumb and forefinger containing a ruby red liquid that looked suspiciously like pale blood.

His eyes widened his long legs carrying him to stand across from her at the counter.

His strong jaw shifted slightly as he swallowed, anxiety thrumming in the space around him as he debated. But soon his light eyebrows drew inward and he frowned, "Is that a test tube?"

Her face fell and she might have replied but his frown grew into a full scowl as he folded his arms over his chest, "Seriously, it looks like a drink you'd get in a club."

She blushed and then her lips formed a pout, "I was out of my earthenware pots. But I promise it's exactly what you came for!"

"Ugh…"

The tube was tossed into the air and he could not help but scramble for it, snatching it before it dashed onto the countertop.

"What the hell?" He snarled with a disapproving frown, clutching the glass between two hands protectively.

The woman ignored this, humming pleasantly, busy scrounging through the shelves behind the counter, her back to the room.

Sienna eyes peered through the glass, inspecting it closely when his companion cleared his throat.

"If you are quite finished here, Shiba…"

"Aa." The young man blinked from his stupor. Holding the container in one hand he dug into the pocket of his slacks.

"You remember my instructions, don't you?" She said not bothering to turn around, still searching.

"Yeah- sure… Um, it was six, right?" He pulled several folded bills from his pocket and set them on the counter haphazardly.

Before the woman could respond, the man who had barely moved from the door scoffed, "Fool."

In a flash the woman had swung around; a tied cloth bag went sailing through the air and the dark-haired man caught it deftly.

"You look terribly constipated! Please take that- it should do the trick!"

The man's eyes widened.

The silence was tense as a stare-down commenced between slate and guileless grey.

The guffaw loosed by the ginger just managed to capture the two would-be combatants attention.

After a scathing glance at the other man, the dark-haired noble regained his expressionless countenance and turned to the door, "I will wait without for you to conclude your _**business**_."

He suddenly held the bag by the drawstrings, a look of slight challenge in his eyes as he let it drop to the floor. He turned on his heel fully intending to exit, but her words brought him up short.

"Be careful, now. My charms are not meant to be handled so carelessly. And such a display- it might be considered offensive… Kuchiki, Byakuya-sama." She wagged her finger at him, speaking in a sing-song lilt.

Silence again held sway over the room for several moments.

Blinking the young Shiba heir breathed out, "Whoa- how did you-,"

She giggled, "Silly! I told you before, I'm not psychic! Mr. Kuchiki there is the most talked about man in the country; how could I not know who he is?" The witch blinked innocently as she smiled once more.

The man's- Mr. Kuchiki's- shoulders were tense beneath his suit jacket, but he managed to ease himself with a deep breath.

"Shiba," Byakuya spoke in a cool tone, "I suggest you not linger." With that the nobleman strode out into the sunshine.

"Kurosaki, damnit!" The other noble growled, turning to shout, "I've told you to stop calling me by my clan's name, Byakuya!"

The woman cocked her head at the young man left behind and mused curiously, "Ne, milord… Does he still not know who this is all for?"

Guilt slumped Ichigo's shoulders as he turned back hesitantly, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Mmm… He still thinks it's about Matsumoto-san."

"I see…" She said, leaning now on her elbows, her chin resting on her intertwined hands. There was disappointment in her lightning grey hues, but she smiled letting the hint of her true emotion fall away. "Well- you shouldn't mull about it, milord! Strike while the iron is hot, I always say!" She offered sunnily.

He nodded with a crooked smile still edged with reluctance as he fingered the glass in his right hand, "Aa… I guess that's for the best…"

The young woman nodded and gave him an encouraging thumbs up before he turned and began to slouch toward the door.

He paused at the entry, his voice soft, "Ne… This will just help her to see me- right- I mean- it can't change what's there if…?" There was no reply and he simply nodded, forcing a small smile. "Right… Thanks, Inoue-san."

The witch's soft silver eyes followed the young aristocrat until he disappeared into the jungle of her garden, "Good luck, Kurosaki-kun."

* * *

><p>888<p>

"My lady, forgive me, but… Kurosaki-san has come again…"

The young woman's answering sigh melted into the cherry-blossomed breeze. Her unique shade of amethyst eyes took in the garden over the balustrade to her left, drinking it in silently as though the vision might be stolen from her.

Her attendant watched her with shadowed navy eyes, still bowed slightly, awaiting her reply.

Her pink lips parted and she finally turned her attention to the young man, "Very well. Show him in, Ishida-san."

"My lady." He bowed further forward, one hand over his breast. With the same masculine elegance did the young butler rise and sweep silently from the balcony. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced back to see the stiff figure of his mistress and note the uncertainty passing over her delicate features.

Eyes narrowed the faithful servant strode on; despite his own disapproval he would never disobey his superior's orders.

Still as he halted before the gentleman caller standing in the mansion's foyer, he couldn't help the glare he gave the ginger-haired nuisance. After a small bow he made a flowing gesture and turned on his heel, anticipating that the young man would follow.

Before he had quite made it to the French doors the servant paused, bringing the guest behind him up short as well.

He turned his head slightly, regal features icy as he spoke quietly over his shoulder, "My lady is being terribly indulgent, Kurosaki-san. I would ask that you keep your visit brief as not to further impose."

The infuriating gentleman (a term used very loosely), by the name of Ichigo Kurosaki, snorted at this, "Don't get your knickers in a twist… Cousin."

A soft huff passed Uryu Ishida's lips as his eyes narrowed further, "We are only distantly related. Please do not address me with such inconsiderate informality."

With a chuckle, Ichigo smirked and ruffled his bright locks with a careless hand, "Whatever you say, _**Ishida**_."

The butler bit his tongue, casting aside the urge to retort, and visibly straightened. He crossed the threshold of the balcony and executed another perfect obeisance and announced, "His lordship, Kurosaki, Ichigo, Heir to the Shiba Clan, my lady."

The young woman only noted her uninvited guest's bow out of the corner of her eye, "Thank you, Ishida-san." She cast the barest smile over the bowing man's head toward her butler and watched as he nodded and retreated into the hall's shadows.

As Ichigo lifted his head he felt his chest tighten as he took in the sight of the young woman seated on the white iron patio chair.

Her beauty was almost alarming in its ability to enthrall him.

The powder blue corset-top that hugged her upper body contrasted beautifully with her porcelain skin. The crisscrossed satin ribbons across the bodice were white as was the lace trim at the square cut collar and around the quarter-length sleeves. Black riding pants clung to her long legs, displaying their exceptional form, these tucked into kid-skin knee boots a soft gray in color. Even in profile the heart-shaped face with its delicate structure and creamy skin made his heart shudder.

His hands kept flinching into fists at his sides as he attempted to ignore the part of him that knew he was enamored. No other woman had ever affected him like this and it was still a struggle to acknowledge his helpless reactions to her.

_Damnit- she's gorgeous! I thought maybe she would lose that weird- __**glow**__- that drew me in- but it's still fucking there! Damnit!_

He slipped his hand casually into his pocket and felt the vial still lying unobtrusively in the satin lining.

After a moment he smirked, cocking his head to the side slightly, "What? Not going to invite me to sit, Lady Rukia? Thought you Kuchikis were known for your manners." Regardless of his adoration, he could not be anything but himself- even enchanted as he was.

She shot him a cool look at that and lifted her chin haughtily, "You're not quite _**welcome**_, Kurosaki-san, but if you're inclined the seat across from me _**is**_ empty."

The sarcasm caused electricity to ripple down his spine and he had to forestall a grin.

Still he indulged in a crooked smile as he strode forward to tug out the not-quite-offered chair and dropped into it with the ease of the entitled.

Rukia did her best not to catch the arrogant young man's eye, but couldn't help but give him a quick once over.

The tall young man slouched casually, seemingly unconcerned about the expense of his attire.

The black trousers were tailored to his long legs and matched the black of the silk-short sleeved button-up shirt beneath his soft gray vest. The vest too fit his form, the silver buttons imprinted with fleur-de-lis, a matching silver chain was attached to a small loop at the bottom of the vest and trailed up to disappear into the breast pocket. His loose tie was an even paler shade of gray and hung limply from his unbuttoned collar. His black leather jacket accentuated his muscled shoulders and was clearly made for riding the chrome motorbike he seemed so fond of zipping about on.

He looked utterly self-possessed and dashing- in the most rebellious way of course. Add to his unique style the good looks and confident swagger and any highborn lady might concede to his certain charm.

The Kuchiki Heiress cleared her throat, turning her head further away from him to hide the pink color beginning to appear on the apples of her cheeks, "This is the fourth time you have come without invitation, Kurosaki-san. I must insist you state your business so that you can be on your way."

One arm draped over the back of the chair, the young man cast her a simmering look as he drawled, "Well that's obvious… I've come to see _**you**_… Midget."

She gasped, immediately incensed by the provocation and turned her dark lavender orbs in his direction finally, "How dare you insult me in my home you- strawberry-haired yankee!"

Ichigo grew rigid in his chair, momentarily shocked by the insult, before his teeth flashed in a sneer and he purred, "That's rich coming from a girl who knows how to spar like any pugilist at the docks!"

He nearly grinned, blood rushing in excitement in his veins as he watched her reaction. The woman gaped at him, knuckles blanched as she gripped the arms of her seat in shaking fists.

A deep inhale tempered the young noblewoman enough to keep her from sniping at him again, however.

Frustrated by her quick loss of composure Rukia whipped her head away from him once more, "You're being quite rude- coming here only to lob ludicrous accusations at me, Kurosaki-san."

He shook his head at her with a scoff, his brown eyes glittering with knowledge as he spoke lowly, "Why deny it, hmm? Such eccentricity sets you apart from all of those society nitwits that simper and bow." He licked his lips in an unconsciously hungry gesture as his eyes narrowed on her.

Her lips parted, but she gave no reply, heavy lashes of midnight hiding the emotion in her eyes.

His eyes followed her hands as she sat forward a bit to reach for her teacup. Her lovely hands were encased in intricate lace, white fingerless gloves that travelled up the length of her forearm. He recalled his cousin agonizing over which design she might like better and a bitter taste flooded his mouth. He was forced to look away, missing how her fingertips only stroked the fragile china in distraction before withdrawing.

She rose regally to her feet and turned her back on him to hide the nervous gaze and sudden swift rhythm of her breaths. She paced to the railing of the balcony to look out at the English style garden laid out below. Her eyes traced the maze of pruned hedges and the concentric plots of flowers that interspersed the pathways.

His voice was carried to her on the breeze, almost a plea in its gentleness, "I… admire such a thing about you, Rukia… Why deny it? Why deny… _**yourself**_?"

Her stomach clenched at his words, but she refused to waver and cast a glance in his direction.

So she remained unaware of the look the young man at her back favored her with or the indecision that warred within him as he slowly reached into his pocket again.

Several minutes passed in the quiet that had settled between the restless souls until the young lady came to a decision.

With utter poise, Rukia turned back to face the table, arms at her sides, hands folded demurely, "Forgive me, Kurosaki-san, but I will have to ask you to excuse me. My fiancé should be here soon and I should like to meet him at the stables."

His honey-brown eyes widened.

Like a dancer she slid one foot forward, angling it slightly, and then bobbed her head graciously, "Kurosaki-san."

In a flash he was out of his chair, his hand reaching to clasp her upper arm as she attempted to head past him to the stairs, "Rukia."

"You forget yourself!" She hissed up at him, yanking her arm from his grip, eyes sparking with ire.

He felt helpless as he stared after her figure, marching down the steps away from him.

But watching her was akin to pulling his heart from his chest and he was soon in pursuit.

He grabbed her again, this time his arm curling beneath her chest, pulling her back against him.

Startled she gave a yelp, frozen for a time, locked in that intimate sort of embrace- only glad that he could not see her flushed face.

They were shadowed by the blue firs that sat in a row along the base of the patio. Hidden there, beyond prying eyes Ichigo squeezed the girl tight to his chest, resting his cheek against her head as he breathed next to her ear.

"Rukia, please… Ever since that night… I can't think straight." He murmured against her, a strained quality to his voice.

She squirmed against him, the desperation in his normally smug voice making her ache, "Let go! Your lack of wits is not my concern!"

A chuckle escaped him despite himself. But impatience surged at her attempts to flee and he growled her name, "Rukia!" She grew still but he could still feel each unsteady intake of breath shuddering out of her.

He shook her slightly, closing his eyes as though in pain, "Just stop… Stop and for a minute acknowledge me! Acknowledge that each time I've come to you I've been sincere!"

"I can't!" She all but screamed, twisting in his hold again.

His eyes were dark and they reflected his anguish as they opened to gaze blindly across the landscape. "Why?" He gritted out between his teeth. The softness of her raven hair against his cheek was torture, and his arm beneath her bust began to lose strength.

Her hair shadowed her face and the light of suffering in her own eyes as she let herself grow almost limp against him, his warmth burning into her back.

"Idiot," Her voice barely rose above a whisper, "Because Kaien is your cousin! Because he's my fiancé!"

The nobleman swallowed the knot in his throat and let his lips trace her ear, causing her to wiggle again, "Because you… love him?"

She sucked in an audible breath, her heart faltering at his words. Her hesitation was telling. _No- I will not allow him to manipulate my feelings! I've loved Kaien- I would never have agreed to his proposal otherwise! I loved…loved… _The girl forced her eyes shut and breathed deeply to fortify herself. _I __**love**__ him._

"Yes." She answered in a hard voice.

Lips twisting in a bitter moue, Ichigo let one hand stray into the hair at the side of her face, pushing it back so that he could trail his lips down toward her neck. "Then you felt nothing… You felt nothing when I touched you." A mischievous hand was lightly fingering beneath one clothed breast now and she bit back a moan.

Each breath was becoming harder to draw, catching in her throat as she recognized how solid he felt- how perfectly she fit drawn tight to his well-molded chest. The smell of his leather jacket encompassed her and she was left floundering in waves of doubt.

Before she was utterly swallowed by the wayward emotions now threatening she drew her foot up only to slam it down on his wingtip.

"Fuck!" He cursed, wincing as he relinquished his hold and stumbled back. Rukia shot forward, out of his reach exhaling harshly.

She pivoted toward him, afraid to leave him at her back. For a frivolous moment her eyes scanned his form one more time, even allowing remorse to touch her as he balanced unsteadily on one foot- the other in his hand.

"Shit, that fucking hurt, you shrew!" He shot daggers at her from beneath his wild bangs.

"Further insults, yet you think to woo me, you lecher? Touch me again and I will do damage to more _**sensitive**_ parts of your anatomy!" She screeched back, face red.

Her eyes narrowed and she drew herself up as tall as her small stature afforded, "Do _**not **_come again, Kurosaki-san!" The command in her voice brought him up short and he could only follow her with his eyes as she stormed away toward the stables of her spring home.

As he snorted indignantly he shook his head, both feet on the ground now, though his right ached something fierce.

_Can't believe I like that little bitch. _He inwardly balked, outwardly scowling.

But he was already missing the pulse of her heart radiating through him and the pomegranate scent that rose from her skin.

An angry breath huffed out between his lips as he dug his fingers in his hair. With a grimace he shook his head and swung around. His gait was idle, lazy as he wandered back towards the front of the house, seeing very little of the ornamented lawns about him.

For a moment it was easy to convince himself he was being foolish and that it was better to leave things as they were. But he paused as the breeze filtered another scent toward him. The Kuchiki's spring home was said to boast an array of fruit trees, scattered about its expansive acreage.

The citrusy tang hitting his nose forced his eyes to squeeze shut again.

When he had kissed in that dark study she had tasted of lemon tarts and longing.

"Damnit." He whispered, a wounded quality to the utterance.

He drew his hand from his pocket then. His eyes reflected the turmoil in his mind as he stared down at the full glass tube in his hand; the red substance within the vial glinting like carnelians in the sunlight.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: The follow-up to this w/b awhile in coming. Yet again this is one I had started before- I just have no conclusion at the moment!

Plus my goal is to have the next chapter of Trump Card out by the New Year! Oh and I _**am** _working on the conclusion to Boy Unmasked- the timing on that coming out is up in the air though... Hold on CherryCherry!

Gratitude All ~ Sin


	5. Boy Unmasked Part 3

AN: It's snowing so my plans for running errands has filtered away… And I'm lazy… And it's cold… But something came out of that- the end of this last edition of Boy Unmasked.

Note it's pretty long-cuz it's the end and there's more dialogue than previous. And I tagged on a silly somewhat epilogue.

Enjoy and thanks for the support!

Rated: M for language and SC

Summary: Vows- check. Ring- check. Girl… Better double check. While the crowd awaits he needs to steal a few minutes of her time- just to reassure her with soft, loving words. How did this turn into such a dirty situation?

Word Count: 4,442

* * *

><p><span>Satiate<span>

Boy Unmasked

Part 3

888

The walkway echoed with the click-clack of chic stilettos, two sets striking the unfinished marble in time.

He listened to the patter of those shoes and the fading of musical feminine voices as he leaned back against the stone in the little alcove outside the sanctuary's doors.

Smoke curled away, the chilly, last of autumn breeze snatching it into the atmosphere every time the sharply dressed young man exhaled.

This was only perhaps the third time in his life he'd allowed himself to succumb to this vice. In fact only three months prior had he indulged for the second time on the eve of his proposal.

Perhaps it was in odd tribute to his father that he puffed away languidly at the slim cigarette- the same brand his father would sneak when he thought no one would notice.

He had to admit his old man did look kind of cool- kind of smooth when he lit up a square and gazed into the distance, watching the trails of vapor disappear. Certainly he too had a bit of that charm when he did the same.

Soon though it was time to execute his mission- self-imposed though it may be- he still intended to carry it out with finesse.

After all- the groom wasn't meant to see the bride before her traditional sashay down the aisle. And of course if he were caught he'd be forced to turn around- literally _**forced**_ by some daunting female or worse by a soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Still he looked oh-so-suave and nonchalant as he slid out from his hiding spot and began to pace down the colonnaded open-air corridor, shiny black shoes barely making a sound. One hand in the pocket of his pressed black pants and the other holding his near-ashed cigarette he seemed to channel James Bond as he strutted.

At the wooden dressing room door he stubbed out the cigarette, relieved there just so happened to be a metal receptacle in reach. In the breast pocket of his silver-grey vest he found binaca and silently saluted his friend Keigo for the forethought.

After one more surreptitious glance about the stone sitting room and down the adjoining hall he pushed at the iron handle of the door and stepped over the threshold.

"Did you forget something?" The occupant of the room asked distractedly.

There was no response.

The shinigami turned, bewildered by the silence only for her lapis lazuli eyes to widen dramatically as they locked onto the tall man darkening her doorway.

But the young man missed the shocked expression as his eyes roved over her extravagant apparel.

_Damn… She looks good in white, but… _

"How come you're wearing an upside-down cupcake?"

If possible Rukia's eyes widened further and she snapped, "_**Those**_ are the first words out of your mouth when you see me, you baka?"

The bright-haired young man, by the name of Ichigo Kurosaki met her eyes then and paled slightly when he realized that his half-joke was probably cannon fodder.

"Don't get me wrong- you look- great- seriously but- I mean- that's a big dress." He chuckled, pushing a hand back through his hair.

Darkness gathered in the young woman's eyes as she stared at the shinigami-daiko, an air of threat surrounding her small form.

Finally she gave him a haughty sniff and looked away from him, "Its designer and its perfect." She cast a sharp glance his way as she lifted a brow, "How is it you came here anyway?"

With a half shrug Ichigo replied, "Slipped past your armored guards. I'm pretty damn good at suppressing my reiatsu now, ya know."

The bride quipped wryly, "Only took you a decade."

He gave a chuckle, a boyish expression passing his handsome features and reminding her of the impossibly long journey they'd taken to get to this point.

She hid the flickering of emotions plain on her face by shifting to the mirror. Her heart was fluttering- like it might take flight from her chest. She'd been told it was normal to be nervous.

Orihime had informed her that humans who were utterly confident about the "big day" were few and far between.

It was totally common to feel strange about this kind of day…

Her feet weren't exactly cold though- but they did ache in the too high heels.

She shifted her weight a couple times while adjusting her veil.

"Why are you here, exactly?" She demanded in a stern tone.

But this brusqueness did not dissuade the man behind her- not even a bit as he secretively eyed her with all appreciativeness.

"I just wanted to see your face." He admitted easily.

Her painted lips curled softly, but still she rolled her eyes. She sighed as she smoothed a persistent lock of hair back beneath the tulle and lace.

The woman in the mirror was lovely and she searched her face for familiarity. If she could recognize herself- then it was real- then she could move forward.

The manicured hand, sweeping beneath her eyes fell to the top of the vanity to trace invisible patterns.

"When did this not become about sex?" She mused softly.

He snorted at this and crossed his arms over his chest, "When you started getting clingy."

"Clingy my ass!" She chucked a tube of lipstick at his head, but swiftly returned to eyeing her reflection.

He chuckled, smirking at the cosmetic that had just narrowly missed his forehead. With confidence he strode toward her. His arms circled her from behind, and she instantly leaned back into his hold.

"When you stopped fighting us." He murmured gently, bent so that he could press his cheek to her veiled hair.

"Who says I'll ever stop fighting?" She pouted her lips out, catching his gaze in the mirror, with a narrow-eyed look.

That cocky smile had returned and he replied, "Oh struggle all you want, Shinigami, I like it that way."

She too began to smile, though she feigned irritation, "Not _**shinigami**_; Rukia. Rukia Kurosaki…" Her eyes fell to her face in the mirror again and she stared at herself murmuring, "Kurosaki… Kurosaki, Rukia."

He sniffed as though affronted, scowling at her as he straightened to his full height, "What? Gonna miss the 'Kuchiki'?"

She frowned, but didn't reply.

Keeping one arm around her he gave a half shrug as he scratched at the back of his neck, "Oi… You can hyphenate it if, ya want… Kuchiki-Kurosaki doesn't sound too bad." He forestalled a grimace.

Hyphenating last names is what school teachers or doctors did- it was snarky.

But Rukia smiled and shook her head slowly, "No… Kurosaki suits me just fine." She tilted her chin up, showing her pride.

"Damn right." He muttered, slinging his arm around her again and leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder.

With an elbow to the stomach she gave him a rather dry look, "Who's clingy now, Strawberry?"

He grunted and reluctantly pulled away from her white-clad form. "So sue me. Have you seen the ridiculous amount of people that are out there? Can't blame a guy for trying to steal a few minutes before the madness!"

Rukia turned to him with one raised brow, crossing her arms over her stomach, "You know there's a whole section of fangirls that have come to mourn the loss of their heroic idol." _Seriously- those heifers are already crying like it's a frickin funeral!_

Ichigo adopted a similar pose with his arms as he scoffed, "Yeah well don't get me started on the number of guys that have threatened me with all kinds of harm if I don't 'stay in line'." _That's including my own friends- Ishida I can understand- stick up his ass 'in all, but Chad?!_

"Oh," Rukia's eyes flitted to the ceiling as she put a finger beneath her bottom lip, "You've run into Shuuhei and Toshirou then…"

The young man's form twitched, growing rigid as he stared at her, "What?! Why the hell would they be threatening me over _**you**_, Rukia? And what's with the first names?!"

But his fiancée only gave him an innocent look, cocking her head to one side, before she turned to the dressing table.

"Rukia…" The young man growled menacingly behind her.

She sighed gustily as she pivoted his way only to settle onto the vanity and scowl at him, "Oh pipe down! You think I have no other friends than Renji? Am I so unpopular?" Her hands were propped on her hips before she sighed again and dropped them to her skirt. With a soft groan she bent forward as she angled one ankle over her opposite knee.

Ichigo noted the four inch heels strapped to her feet then and commented, "Ah, I was wondering why you didn't look so dinky today."

Her gaze snapped up to him and she hissed between her teeth before choosing to ignore him as she undid the clasp of the white strap around her ankle.

"Yes well, simply so that I don't look so _**dinky**_ I am forgoing my comfort to wear these monstrosities…" Her lips pouted as she pulled the shoe off and rubbed at her stocking-ed foot. "I'm going to end up with back problems you know."

But the young man could hardly concentrate on her grumbling as his eyes trailed up and down the woman's calf clad in the sheer, silky white nylon. His lips were twitching, threatening a rakish smile as he watched her extend her leg, bending it a few times in a stretch.

He decided that if he remained utterly still he might really get a show. As it was Rukia was paying him no mind, her hand squeezing around her calf now to work the muscle that had grown somewhat stiff from standing before the mirror.

As she let her shoeless foot dangle she reached for the other foot when she was startled by the suddenly kneeling form of her husband-to-be.

"Let me. You'll mess up your hair or whatnot." He muttered, reaching for her heel. Rukia couldn't help it- she frowned at his bowed head of shaggy orange hair- suspicious by nature.

His warm hand enclosed her ankle and his dexterous fingers set to work on the small buckle.

She could not see the devious cast to his smile as he slid his hand up her calf on the precept that he was getting a better grip.

"Ichigo… What time was it when you came in?" She asked, trying not to shudder at the way his hand began to massage gently.

"It's fine. We've plenty of time. Weren't the girls gonna come back a half hour before anyway?" He murmured as he slid the shoe from her dainty foot.

"Still…" She huffed as she settled her arms over her stomach in a stubborn pose.

"Rukia…"

"Mmm?" She waited, but when he didn't continue she looked down only to fall prey to the smoldering look in his dark butterscotch eyes.

She curled her tongue in her mouth- trying to wet her palette and lubricate her throat. Blindly she reached for the flute of champagne that Rangiku had left on the right side of the vanity.

Her hand shook around the glass as she brought it to her lips, trying to decide what made this sensation of heat worse- the look in his eyes- or the fingers creeping up to her thighs.

"You know you really look amazing, right? I- never thought… You're really beautiful, Rukia." For just a moment, she saw past the swaggering rogue this man had become and saw the unguarded boy that had first made her blush.

Younger Ichigo had had a bluntness about him that was paired with uncertainty- and it was that side of him that peaked through at times and reminded her that before their bedroom antics had come into play- they had just been friends.

Their foundation had been trust. And while she had forever questioned the progression from friends to lovers- doubting the sanity of it- she could not evade the fact that their faith in each other was real.

What could be wrong about this then?

So she was marrying her protégé essentially… was the emotion she felt any less true?

He watched the play of ranging thought behind her eyes carefully- as though reading every doubt.

But he was purposely patient… Still, the time for reassurance was now and he'd never been great with emotional speeches.

A rallying war-cry he could do- but a sentimental epitaph was a little harder- not to mention it took too much time and planning.

Action was always his way and she would just have to deal with that.

She took a large gulp of the bubbly alcohol when his digits tickled over the lacy tops of the stockings and plucked at the garter belt's clasps.

Her cheeks bloomed with color- an instant response to the liquor? Doubtful.

"Ichigo-," She started to protest, but her voice was just a breathless murmur.

He quickly silenced her, "Shh, it's just us, ne? Before all this traditional bull and public spectacle nonsense- let's just be us, okay?"

She could only exhale as her dress was pushed up further and one finger was tracing her nether lips through the satin of her skivvies.

"This-this- is our wedding day!" She managed to sound scandalized even as she rolled her hips and then gasped at the friction.

"Day, night, what does it matter?" He smirked down at her, standing now, one arm beneath one leg, angling her back against the mirror as he continued to stimulate her.

Using his middle finger he rubbed little circles on the hardened nub he could feel through the fabric of her dampening panties.

"This- is sooo wrong." She groaned, but her eyes were closed and her head was lolling, each breath escaping her- short.

The vanity was the perfect height for him and he couldn't believe his luck as he paused in arousing her long enough to reach for the button and zipper on his restrictive slacks.

"Ichigo." She panted.

She was impatient now; those sapphire eyes heady, glazed with lust.

"Yeah," He exhaled, hotly, fumbling with his pants in utter desperation, "Say my name just like that… Always." His trousers fell to his ankles, followed by his navy boxer briefs- he didn't want to leave any telltale evidence on dark clothes.

The wet satin crotch of her panties brushed his straight length as her hips bounced in anticipation.

"Sorry, baby, we honestly don't have a lot of time," Ichigo purred as he leaned over her, re-situating her so that the angle was right, "But I swear, tonight..." There was no reply as his hand dove into her skimpy underclothes, cupping her as his middle finger plunged into her simmering honeypot.

Her leg practically curled over his shoulder and she whined, ignoring the sound of the champagne glass- that she'd carelessly perched on the tabletop- shattering on the floor. Her juicy walls rippled around his finger anxiously, drawing him in.

She couldn't quite ignore the sound of satin and lace ripping, her fiancee's ardor mounting into carelessness. But still she was putty in his hands- like always- she was reduced to a writhing mass of flesh- albeit now practically drowning in abundant fabric hiked up around her waist and nearly burying her upper body under the layers.

She wanted to snipe at him- being blinded by white netting and silky bits was hardly ideal, but his finger was gone and the head of his cock was travelling up and down- touching every naughty place below her waist.

Helplessly she rocked her hips as he prodded her stiff clit.

Ichigo pushed aside what he could of the dress fluff, not liking her responses muffled and needing to see the desirous look on her face.

Just as he thought: she looked needy. She was biting at her lower lip, her eyes screwed shut, and every once and awhile her tongue would dart out to wet her pouted mouth.

With a sinister, yet completely erotic chuckle, he stretched her, popping just the tip of himself into her entrance, letting her muscles suck at him eagerly.

"Oh!" She arched her back, reaching to dig her hands into him anywhere- searching for an anchor.

"That's right," He uttered as between each heaving, anxious breath he pushed a little more of his erection into her, "This is… what you want… isn't it?"

Their pelvises seemed to ram each other as he conquered her depths and she surrendered to his invasion. He was pushing against her womb and that hint of pain that always came with this joining only made her whimper with delight.

As he leaned in to partake in her lips he ground in further and she whined into his mouth as the ache inside increased.

Showing a hint of mercy the man slowly re-adjusted her legs so that the underside of them nestled into his palms as he began to pump his cock into her sheath. Still, he spread her incredibly wide so she could feel each slap of his tight balls against her ass cheeks.

Her head smacked against the mirror and the whole desk jolted, compacts and cosmetics shuddering, some clattering to the floor to join the littering of shimmering glass.

His words barely penetrated the haze, but then they rang like bells in her ears, "After today- there's no- going back. Fuck- never has been…"

"B-but," She swallowed hard, uncertainty rearing like her nearing orgasm, "You- you've never been… been with anyone else- how can you kn-kn-OH!"

His head was tipped back and he was hammering back and forth, his mouth was hanging open as he panted like a marathon runner. Somehow he managed to bark out, "Are you an _**idiot**_?"

He glared down at her now and his hands dug into her. He quickly shifted her to lie longways, bottoming out in her as he laid atop her, earning himself a sharp cry.

His pace slowed, his hips swiveling so that his member hit her in all sorts of new ways that made her eyes tear in bliss.

"Why would I go anywhere else?" He whispered against her lips, pulling out minimally before snapping forward again while sweeping her mouth with tongue.

She didn't so much mind his tongue-melting kisses now…

Still she pulled away to yelp, "Oh god!"

The top of this antique dressing table really did not make for the most comfortable support, but even if her neck snapped it wouldn't matter as her release was almost in sight.

"Quickly, Ichigo, please," She pleaded in a plaintive whisper, "I'm starting to sweat."

He gave a laugh and she felt thrill from her head to her toes.

"Nobody wants a- _**sweaty**_ cupcake."

"Oh- fuck- _**you**_!"

"It's better when I fuck you, angel."

"You're- so conceited- asshole."

"Is that where you want it next, honey?"

"Ugh- you're so- so…Mmm-ugh!"

"Oh yeah? _**There**_? Kay, let go then, baby- before you sweat."

Before she could berate him Rukia got a mouthful of dress as Ichigo drove home once more and remained deep in her pussy as he shot one long blast of thick come after another.

Saturated by his milk she orgasmed as well, meeting his thrust so that she could feel each little spurt that might follow his initial explosion.

There was an echoing cry in her head and she attempted to breathe through her nose, despite how hard her ribs pressed against her flesh with every exhalation.

She could hear her partner's ragged breathing next to her ear, sprawled heavily on her.

"Ichigo!" She slapped his back which jolted him.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on a minute…" He griped at her only wiggling slightly.

Rukia's eyes narrowed; she knew the man well enough- there was almost always strength in him to go another round. "Ichigo Kurosaki, you get off me right now." She demanded, nails digging into his shoulders.

He hissed through his teeth and she felt his member jump inside her.

That was not the response she had been hoping for (though she inwardly writhed in abandon at the sensation).

She swallowed hard, mentally clutching at her willpower and growled, "I mean it, Ichigo. We do not have time for this."

A snort was her answer and he pushed himself back enough for her to see the crooked smirk, "Isn't that what you were afraid of the first time?"

Her talons were close to shredding fabric now and he threw his head back with a sharp inhale, "Ahhh, fuck." He was panting, eyes dark, frothing with potent desire, "Damnit- you know that's not fucking helping."

She felt him move again, felt the truth of his words as he swelled pressing against her walls with his thickness.

She suppressed a groan and quickly released him, hissing, "Don't you dare!"

The muscles in his jaw down to his neck were very pronounced as he grew still, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

It took a great effort to calm himself after being worked up by his minx-y little fiancé. Damn her.

His broad chest expanded as he took in a breath. After a minute in which Rukia's gaze lashed at his face with impressive peril Ichigo grunted and pushed himself up further.

They both shuddered as he disengaged his softening dick from her toasty nethers.

The young woman sighed in relief, allowing herself to relax- though she was realizing how very awkward their makeshift bed was now.

After a moment she called, "Ichigo." And tossed her head in the direction of a chaise in the corner of the room. He followed her line of vision and then shuffled forward.

At the bachelorette party, the ever practical Nanao Ise had gifted the bride with a basket full of emergency items- little things that might be needed on the day of the wedding- possibly forgotten due to the anxious rush.

Rukia and Ichigo had come to appreciate the convenience of wet wipes- they made clean-up easy.

The room would have been silent but for the whispering of fabric as the groom redressed.

Garter belt adjusted, stockings in place, and skirt situated Rukia watched as her husband-to-be ruffled his distinctive auburn locks.

He looked pleased with himself and she might have been irritated by this if she was not positive she knew the reason behind his self-satisfaction.

"That was some reassurance."

He turned her way as he tugged at his vest, a curious expression on his face, only to take in her smile. The smile was returned slowly but he raised a brow in question, "Reassurance?"

The curtain of lashes hid her eyes from him as she looked down, smile never wavering as she said, "Mmhm… Though… I don't know if it was necessary..." Her eyes locked onto his own and his throat grew tight with suffocating emotion.

She nodded, "Even if I threw a fit and shredded this dress in a silly- ridiculous- panic attack- I'd… I'd come to you, Ichigo. I'd walk that aisle- a _**shameful**_ mess- but I'd come."

She had approached him slowly, glided toward him in her pure white "cupcake" dress until she was a space away- head tilted back to meet his gaze.

"That's the strength of my resolve," Her voice had grown soft and she slipped her hands into the large ones unconsciously held out to her, "That's my faith in myself. In my love. In… us."

This brave warrior-goddess…

How could she do this to him- how could she take his heart into her hands and make it beat only for her?

Ichigo didn't trust his voice. It hurt to look at her- a blissful pain he understood, yet found almost ludicrous.

Finally he nodded, his voice rough, "Aa."

Rukia smiled and squeezed the trembling hands in her own, "Aa."

* * *

><p>Word Count: 482<p>

888

Epilogue

Wedding and a Funeral

_Ten minutes before the ceremony in the dressing room…_

"Working on those babies early, huh?" Rangiku said with a saucy wink.

The bride lost all color in her face, "Wha?"

The strawberry-blonde giggled, waving her hand at the smaller woman's reflection, "It's okay! At least you're going into the marriage knowing what you're getting, eh? Though I can't imagine that was the first time…" Blue eyes glimmered knowingly.

"So- so, you-oh- hell- you _**heard**_?" Rukia squeaked going from pale to pretty pink and back again.

"Mmhmm, we sure did!"

Rukia's hands dropped forward with a smack onto the tabletop, "We as in-,"

"_**Everybody**_. Seriously I think your brother had a minor aneurysm – his eye won't stop twitching now." Rangiku's tone was nonchalant. She fussed with the veil with a pout, oblivious to the bride looking rather mortified and on the verge of collapse.

Finally after a couple minutes of fluffing and smoothing, Rangiku glanced up into the mirror only to blink rapidly at the pallid face staring dazedly into the glass.

"Oh- crap- are your laces too tight?" The bridesmaid queried with innocent concern.

Rukia looked on the verge of tears, "I-I- I'm not wearing panties."

888

_Meanwhile at the altar…_

Ichigo's groomsmen all suspiciously looked as though they'd gotten too much sun- red faced and fidgeting in discomfort.

Glancing to his left at them Ichigo scowled and muttered, "What the hell is with you guys?"

"What the hell is with you?" The best man accused tossing his head in the other direction- stubbornly avoiding the groom's gaze.

"Renji," Ichigo gave the man a dry look, "What are you talking about?"

He watched as the other man swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing. His frown deepened.

"Nothin'," Renji spat in a low whisper, still refusing to return his friend's gaze.

After one more suspicious look Ichigo rolled his eyes and shifted forward to take in the murmuring sanctuary.

_Come to think of it- why does everyone look so… awkward? Nobody will look at me…_

Just then the shinigami-daiko locked eyes with the Head of the Kuchiki Clan and felt his death was eminent.

"Oh yeah, Buddy-boy," Renji needled, leaning to the side toward the young man, "That look right there means you're food for the vultures…"

Ichigo felt his chest tighten, his heart on a collision course with his ribcage as grey eyes grew ever darker with bloody intent.

"Didn't realize you had that kind of relationship and now thinks the proposal came cuz you knocked his sister up." The red-head informed the groom from behind the hand cupped around his mouth.

"Shit." Ichigo's utterance echoed jarringly in the holy space.

Recovered from his own embarrassment at the situation the young man next to Renji coolly adjusted his glasses with a gloved hand.

"A wedding and a funeral in the same day. Good luck with that, Kurosaki."

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: Annnnnddd that's a wrap! Wanted to make it sweet- smutty- and fun with what was hopefully some classic banter.

Please join me for the next shot I'm working on: Kitsune and Ojou-sama

Gratitude once more for your kindness!

Take care!

~Sin


End file.
